Codename Falcon
by The Other Side of Darkness
Summary: The military does not abduct you because you're special, or have something to contribute. They take you because you don't matter. They take your eyes because you can't see. They take your lungs because you have asthma. The freeze you, because you aren't needed. But the world could always use a few more heroes. OC with abilities. Pairings undecided and unimportant. Long Live Tracer!
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Overwatch.

If I did, bullshit plot devices would not be used to overcome teleportation and super speed abilities.

It's always bugged me when someone has a character like Tracer, or the Flash, and they make them lose for no good reason. In the little episode about Widowmaker, at the end, Tracer was slammed into the wall and her tech vest damaged. That should never have happened. She had the ability, and the experience, to simply zip away from the assassin and easily chase after her from another vantage point. She wouldn't have been able to rewind herself because the timer on that wouldn't have charged back up, but she should have very easily overcome Widowmaker.

In The Flash live action series, season one, Barry Allen lost a fist fight. Allow me to rephrase that. The Flash, the Scarlet Speedster, capable of moving so quickly that the world looks like it's in freeze frame, lost a fist fight with a borderline human, whose only ability was making clones. Bullshit.

This will have none of that. Will there be bullshit? Hell yes, this is a self insert of an idealized version of myself. More bullshit than a cow farm. Will it have the needless nerfing of abilities to advance the plot? Fuck no.

Please Enjoy.

Chapter One: Codename Falcon

 _ **June 4th, 2016**_

"I'm telling you, man, bullshit," I said into my headset, "The Flash should never lose a fistfight with a borderline human. I don't care how many clones he has." I pressed a series of buttons on the game controller I was using. I sighed with disappointment a few seconds later as my avatar was shot dead by the enemy team.

" _Yeah, but it made the episode last longer, right? It would have been boring if they ended it like that, wouldn't it?_ " the man on the other end of the microphone asked.

"No, that is just an excuse for bad writing. They could have had him encounter that cloning lame-ass in the beginning, take him out as easy as you blink, then had it segue into a worse, or less easily dispatched, villain. Or a thousand other things, really. What happened was a mockery to good writing," I huffed, scratching the base of my ponytail, "Aside from that, and one or two other stupidities, it's a really good series and I totally recommend that you watch it, simply to see a person moving that fast in live action."

" _After such rousing support, how can I resist?_ " came the sarcastic response.

"Hey, I can't help it. I'm an analyzer. And I can guarantee you, if I had half as useful an ability as super speed, I wouldn't be taken down so easily," I said.

" _If you say so,_ " my friend said and I could hear the uncaring shrug.

I yawned, covering my mouth with a hand, "Listen, I'm gonna sign off. I work tomorrow."

" _Kay, see ya later,_ " he said. I quickly turned off the system and headed to the kitchen for a snack.

The door to my apartment blew inward with the force of three armed men tackling it. I would know, because that's what happened. I barely had any time to think about it before six laser sights had me targeted, and I was hit with, I'm going to assume, tranquilizer darts and my consciousness quickly began to fade. Unlike in movies, where it might take a long time for a person's faculties to leave them, giving them plenty of clues about who took them, I only had those few seconds of sensation to take anything away from the whole ordeal.

U.S. Army.

My final thought as I sank into the blackness was, ' _Wow, there must be something really special about me for them to do this._ '

 _ **April 16th, 2047**_

"General Stanley Devlin, you stand accused of grotesque human experimentation, kidnapping, conspiracy, dissension, and various other traitorous acts," a reporter pushed a microphone into a fifty something general's face, "Do you have any response to this? Any kind of rationale for the heinous acts seen so far?"

General Devlin was a man of less than imposing stature. He came to his full height when he was sixteen at five foot five. His hair was kept in a tight buzzcut and he kept his face smooth and hairless. That said, he still looked like a man who had, could and would kill for his nation, among other things.

"It's a forgone conclusion, you know," the man almost growled, "I'm guilty. I know when the ballot is out. My time is up. You want to know why I did it?"

The reporter, one among many that had come to see the man exit the UN building where he had gone to have the hearing over his indiscretions, was almost, _almost_ , stunned to silence. The others were whispering and muttering in a quiet cacophony, eagerly waiting for more.

That moment of loud whispers was cut short when the General went forward with his explanation.

"None of these _people_ were of any use to America- hell, the world- before I got my hands on them. Not a single one of these _citizens_ would have mattered if I hadn't made them matter. Do you honestly think that you would have cared this much if any of the mongrels had actually been killed by petty crime, or gang violence?" he paused, "I didn't think so. So, give me all your hate, treat me like the worst devil you've ever heard of. I knew what I was doing when I took over Project Prometheus. I stole wood for my stolen fire. Now, get the hell outta my way, I've got a date with a firing squad."

The man pushed roughly through the crowd, the perpetual frown on his face.

Most of the reporters acted quickly, recording his rough exit and writing down his exact words.

One reporter in particular turned towards the camera behind her, mic in hand, "You heard it here, Janet," she spoke to the anchor back in the newsroom, "General Devlin obviously feels no remorse for his actions. We can only hold out hope that some of the test subjects are found alive. With one hundred and fourteen dead already, the chances are slim. Back to you."

 _ **November 14th, 2091**_

"What are we looking at?" A man that looked like a Clint Eastwood impersonator asked a gorilla in power armor.

"Two years ago, General Stanley Devlin died in his sleep of old age. He advocated his own death sentence, but nothing came of it. A few months before he died, he mentioned something to a fellow inmate about a weapon stash in the Catskills. Word has it, Talon has a line on where it is. So do I. Prewar technologies can be… volatile. We need to get in there and destroy those weapons before Talon can get half a hand on them," the ape adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"What's the bad news?" a man in a high tech mask with a red visor and a leather jacket with the number seventy six on the back asked.

"Devlin was in prison for overseeing a project that conducted human experimentation, among other things," the ape, Winston, said, "Over the course of thirteen years, this Project Prometheus kidnapped many low profile targets, making it look like they were the victims of minor crimes gone wrong. There were one hundred forty four discovered, all dead. Documents were discovered, though, that imply that nine survived. I will not burden you with the pictures of the failures."

"So, what? Are those guys down there?"asked a british woman in a leather flight jacket, orange bodysuit and a piece of chest armor that had a blue glowing center and what looked like a holographic readout.

"That is a distinct possibility. I'm not going to sugar coat this. The things you might see down there could be horrifying. War… war is a product of science used for violence. This will be the reverse of that, and I can guarantee you that it can be worse than anything you've ever seen before," Winston sighed, "I want you all to be ready for anything."

"Consider us warned," the Eastwood look alike, McCree, said.

"Let's get this over with," Soldier Seventy Six agreed.

With that, the back of the aircar they were riding in opened the bay door and one by one, the agents of Overwatch leapt out, deploying their own methods for surviving the fall into the forest below.

The world roared around me. There were garbling words and castrophonous hissing. I don't know if my head was throbbing in time to an alarm, or my pulse. My arms and legs felt like they were carrying lead weights that were tied to helium balloons.

My world was a bubble of sound and discomfort. My eyes… I couldn't feel my eyes. I tried to open them, to blink, to do anything, but nothing was happening.

I… I wasn't blind. That would imply that there was a piece of me, my eyes, that wasn't working properly. If the sensation I was getting in this confusing little fragment of the world was right, I didn't even _have_ eyes any more. You can't use what you don't have.

"Nuh," I gasped, realizing that It was cold, I leaned forward, and almost screamed as I felt things attached to my back rip out, warm liquid quickly traveling down my back from six points of hot pain.

That was not my focus. My body fell forward, my face hit something cold and hard and smooth. I felt the shifting of my nose as it broke and blood undoubtedly pouring down my face. That was not my focus.

My hands, my weightlessly heavy hands, moved to my face, slowly approaching the place where my eyes had been.

I don't know what would be more horrifying. Finding empty pits, pools of nothingness where my eyes had been, or scabs, burns, patches of scarred skin that would stand out as marks of whatever had happened to me.

I chickened out. I couldn't do it. I… I didn't want to know.

I wanted out. I _needed_ out.

"He-uch!" I coughed, the cold air seeming to freeze the words in my throat, but I wouldn't stop, "Hel-uch! He-uch!" I slowly took a deep breath, letting the freezing air warm in my lungs before I used it this time, " _HELP!_ " I accentuated this cry with pounding my fist into the wall of my prison. I hoped it was a door. It rang with the sound of flesh on metal.

I hit it again and again, screaming for help.

I stopped when the world rumbled again.

My mind stopped compartmentalizing and I remembered things that I had noticed right away. There were alarms blaring and the world outside of my half frozen bubble was all aflutter with the sounds of movement and combat.

I strained my ears, listening for what was going on.

I remembered how I came to be here. U.S, Army. They broke into my home and took me. Why? Why did they take my eyes? Why did they put me in this cold room?

"Help," I said through clenched teeth to stave off stuttering from my shivers, "Let me out…"

I had to be louder. I knew I had to be louder. I had to be patient. The points of hot pain on my back were spreading. It was slowly getting warmer. Not quickly enough. I had to breathe slowly and shout loudly.

"Let me _out!_ " the next thing I know I'm stumbling into the much warmer air of the area outside of my cell, the wall falling down with a hiss. I heard glass shatter and felt some digging into my hands and stomach and chest.

"This one?" a vaguely french voice asked. It sounded like a woman.

A hand, clad in leather and metal, grabbed me by the chin and roughly lifted my head. I felt hot air on my face and can assume that someone was looking closely at my face.

"No," a new voice rumbled, sounding like it was right in my ear.

I heard that overdone, Hollywood style, cocking of a gun, then the second voice spoke again.

"No," I heard rustling fabric, "Leave him. He will slow down those fools."

I'm not sure what I head next. I think it might have been something like a clothesline thrumming, and a rustle of wind and motion.

I tried to stand, coming to my knees, when I heard, felt, heavy thumping footsteps. I angled my face in the direction of the sound. By the time I did, some humongous, grunting beast had passed me by so swiftly that I couldn't even believe it. It seemed like, one moment, it was twenty feet away, the next it was twenty feet behind me.

It was pointless to turn my head to look, but it was habit, none the less.

I almost turned to follow him when I heard a deep voice from behind me, startling me.

"Hey, are you alright?" it was almost a growl, like the person speaking had lungs too powerful for normal human speech.

"I…" my breath hitched, as everything began to weigh in. I had been kidnapped by the military. They had mutilated me, frozen me. My nose and back were throbbing in time with my heart beat and it was only getting faster. Glass was in my hands and chest and stomach. Someone had almost killed me.

"I can't see," I think I said that. I'm not sure. It might have been dreaming.

But I know I heard a digitized voice saying something about vitals spiking before I lost consciousness again. Maybe this time I wouldn't wake up in a pod used for freezing people.

"What did they do to him?" the british woman, Tracer, asked. It had been seventy two hours since the raid on the hidden base in the Catskills. Talon had practically met them at the door. It had turned into a run and gun battle, like most of their fights, honestly.

They weren't even fully sure that they had come out the other side of that battle as the victors. Reaper and Widowmaker had been off grid for a full two minutes and eighteen seconds. Who knows what they could have done in that time.

"A lot," Winston sighed, rubbing his face, "His eyes were removed, obviously, but they replaced them with these sockets, open ended connectors for something else, most likely cameras," he gestured absently at a screen that was going over the data they had managed to salvage, "That was just the start. His bones were replaced. The ones in his limbs, at least. They replaced them with an ultralight, carbon fiber and metal composite. His blood is half formed of nanites that increase his rate of healing by a generous degree. His lungs are completely synthetic, so are his airways. His legs have built in shock absorbers. His arms have increased mobility. His throat has armor plating around the carotid arteries.

"And then there's this," the ape roughly pressed a knuckle into the holographic display of the man's body, right over a device that was fused to the front of his ribcage. It was very slightly reminiscent of the chronal accelerator that Tracer was wearing, but smaller and less refined. It also had nothing to do with quantum physics.

"What is it?" Tracer asked, resisting the urge to spin around in the office chair she was sitting in, "Kinda looks like mine, don't it?"

"It does, and I can guess," Winston grunted and opened a jar of peanut butter then peeled a banana, "This one, Falcon, was going to be a scout. They wanted someone who could literally step through space to anywhere he could see. But," the ape growled from a series of things, "but they didn't do anything with it. They took him, ripped him apart, put him back together, then just put him on ice. They didn't even finish the ocular implants. It doesn't make sense. This guy doesn't even have any kind of training with his abilities. Why go through all this work to just shelve it for forty years."

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out, luv," the woman patted him on the arm, giving him a smile for assurance, "It's just a matter of time, right?"

"Yes, but, until then, we should also continue trying to find out anything else about the others that Talon collected. Has Soldier Seventy Six reported in yet?" Winston asked.

"Not in the last thirty six hours," the voice of Winston's AI, Athena, said, "I attempted contact twelve hours ago, but he told me to be quiet and call back tomorrow."

"Son of a...," the ape moved around to another terminal, "Athena, put that new rocket launcher on the back burner. He obviously doesn't want it _that_ badly."

"Done."

When you live in darkness, light is like water. Just a small mote, a single radiant drop, can mean the world to you. You know it's there. You know you need it, you know it's there.

You just don't know where to find it.

I had resigned myself to darkness, blindness, by the time I woke up for the second time. I didn't know where I was, but it was warm. I could feel the bandages on my hands and chest and stomach. I could hear the beeping of the ECG machine.

"Well," I said to myself, placing my arms behind my head and staring at nothing with no eyes, "This sucks."

"Oh," a feminine voice sounded, "You are awake," it sounded Russian, or maybe German, "I will turn on your eyes."

"What?" I turned my head in her direction, confused by that.

There was the sound of buzzing, gears whirring quickly and an audible click.

And then…

I could see.

Chapter End.


	2. Chapter 2 Here and There

Chapter Two: Here And There

When I was fourteen, I read my first chapter book that was longer than the average Goosebumps masterpiece. It took me a month, with school and videogames in between reading, to finish the thirty two chapter book, and by the end of it, I noticed one undeniable fact.

My vision was getting worse.

My vision started at something only a little worse than twenty-twenty. By the time of my abduction, it was worse than twenty-four hundred. When I awoke, close to seventy five years, I had discovered my eyes were just gone. They had been scooped out, taken for reasons I didn't yet know.

I could feel that my body was different. My arms and legs felt too light, my neck felt tight, my lungs were working _too_ well(I was asthmatic). And there was something in the middle of my chest. I hadn't even noticed it when I woke up in the cryo pod. I was more concerned with my other discoveries, plus the cold and my broken nose at the time.

But none of that mattered to me half as much as losing my eyes. An entire world was lost to me. I'd never see my favorite color again. I'd never see the face of the woman I may fall in love with, or the children I may yet have. I'd never read another book, not in the same way.

Then, Doctor Ziegler flipped a switch and my eyes, eyes that did not blink, or water, or get dry in the wind, showed me the world again.

White walls and ceilings. Blue tinted glass, with a hexagonal pattern. A heads up display informed me that the glass was bullet proof. It also zeroed in on the faces of several people that were looking in on me. It was through this HUD that I came to know Doctor Angela Ziegler's name.

The faces on the other side of the glass weren't named, but my implants informed me that was because of insufficient point of view. The glowing hexagonal pattern obstructed my view just enough.

"How are the colors?" the accented voice from before asked, and I turned to look at a blonde woman carrying what looked like a tablet made of glass. She had an expectant look on her face, waiting for my answer.

I turned my head around the room, taking in everything.

"I think it's all good," I said, turning back to the doctor, "Where am I? This doesn't look military."

"It is not," the german said, "You are in an Overwatch medical facility," seeing my blank look, she went on, "I will let other fill you in on the fine details, but thirty years ago, robots rebelled the chains put on them by humanity. The Omnic War, it was called. Since then, steps have been taken by both human and robot alike to bridge the gap between the two. Overwatch was a team of unique individuals who had been tasked with ending the war. We succeeded. We have been officially disbanded, though. This facility is secret, and still operational."

I took all that in, and thought about it. It's odd, but you never realize how much you missed blinking until you couldn't do it any more. I usually closed my eyes to think deeply on something. Now, I wouldn't want to even if I could. I suppose that nightmare of eternal darkness would fade with time, but I didn't want to miss a thing right at that moment.

"Overwatch," I said, "Omnic War, disbanded. Why am I here? If you guys were disbanded, that is?"

"Things are happening in the world again. People are being oppressed and outright killed for naught but monetary gain, in some cases. Officially, we are vigilantes, fighting imaginary villains. In reality, we are combating a force called Talon that is moving against the betterment of mankind. You, as luck would have it, were simply a bystander in a weapon stash raid. Four of those frozen with you were taken by Talon. You were left behind," the woman sighed, sitting down in a spinning office chair and set aside her tablet, "They want me to ask if you know why you were left behind, if the agents Widowmaker and Reaper gave any hint to their aspirations from this raide. But I do not care. Are you feeling well?"

I didn't answer immediately. Was I well? To be honest, I was probably in the best shape of my life at the moment. I was a little pudgy before, honestly. Now I had honest to god abs. My… implants could see clearer than my eyes had in thirteen years. So, was I well? Yes.

Was I _feeling_ well? Not exactly.

"I think I'm in shock," I said honestly, "I don't- I'm not-," I began to stumble over my statements, trying to say multiple things at once. I stopped, inhaling deeply and holding it for a few moments then letting it out through my nose, "How long was I… contained, down there. What's the date?"

"It is November twenty first, twenty ninety one," Doctor Ziegler said.

"No it's not," I said immediately.

The blonde arched a single, elegant eyebrow, "I am quite sure it is."

"It can't be," I shook my head, "Seventy five years? Are you kidding me?!" I stood up, ignoring the fact that I was clad in one of those backless hospital gowns.

"Please," the woman said, standing and holding up her hands in the universal 'Stop' gesture, "Calm down."

"Let me out of here," I said in monotone, "Let me go home. My parents are probably worried about me."

"Devin Serres and Fancheska Gerrin were killed in the course of your abduction," the doctor said.

I shook my head again, more furiously. I moved around the woman, trying to head for the door. It looked like a door at least, the only one I'd seen so far.

"Mister Serres-"

"Let me _out!_ " I yelled at her. Well, more at the door, really, but semantics.

"I do not think-"

" _Let him out, Mercy_ ," the voice that spoke sounded kind of aggressive, judgemental. If I were thinking of anything but getting away from these crazy jerks, I might have noticed a threatening edge to it.

I ignored that though, only hearing the doctor sigh in defeat. I saw a button that said 'OPEN' right by the door. I didn't think twice about pressing it, probably a little harder than I needed to at that. I stormed out of the room as soon as the door finished hissing open. One of the men, wearing a blue and white leather jacket, a black mask with a red visor and a huge ass gun in his hand was already there, on the other side of the door.

I stepped around him, working myself up a good head of steam. I didn't care that I didn't know the way out. I didn't care that he had a gun. I didn't care that I was basically naked from the back. I just wanted out.

I heard the man in the leather following me, the sounds of his footsteps quite like the monster that had ran by me in the cache I'd been found in.

"There," the man's deep voice got my attention. I turned to look at him and he was pointing at a particular door. I pressed the button and it opened to a scene straight out of a scifi movie.

Vehicles that resembled cars were flying through the air, not a wheel to be had. Even those that were staying near the ground were still hovering more than a few inches above the ground. That alone was enough to tell me that more than a few months had passed since my abduction.

The man in the mask, and most of the group I'd seen so far were standing behind me now. I glanced back at them. The cowboy among them had a robotic left arm. The ape was in power armor that had what looked like miniature jets on the back. The woman with brown hair and orange, single lens plate goggles was wearing a… harness of some kind that had a blue glowing core that made me think of an arc reactor from the Marvel comic books. I looked back at the skyline before me.

Billboards made out of holograms, flying cars and trucks, robots walking among people.

My heart beat felt rushed and uncontrollable, my breathing quickened, my fists clenched. My HUD began to feed me names and faces and license plates and-

 _Too much. It's too much._

I spun around. My eyes gave me the names of the agents of Overwatch that had followed me to the terrace.

 _Lena Oxton/Tracer_

 _McCree_

 _Soldier Seventy Six_

 _Winston_

 _Angela Ziegler/Mercy_

I took a few stumbling steps backwards. I didn't fall off the edge, I would have had to go alot further than a few steps to do that, but I did wind up on my rump.

"Turn them off," I said, pointedly staring at the ground, "It's too much. Turn them off, or just the HUD, or something. Please!" I so badly wanted to scratch at my face, to pound the side of my head to get the eyes to turn off. That might have worked for my purposes, but who knew what shorting out equipment plugged into my face would do to my brain.

My world had turned itself over like a rollercoaster, and I hated those. I needed my eyes off so I could concentrate on… everything. I needed no new information to deal with.

One of them said something into a radio and my vision went away again.

"Thank you," I sighed out, leaning back on the hard, but smooth, surface, "Thank you. Thank you," I repeated that a few more times, letting the feel of the wind clear my thoughts. I let the heat of the sun and the smell of the city focus my mind.

My parents were dead. My friends were most likely dead. I knew no one. I didn't have anything going for me here. I had probably been written off as dead. I was nothing in this world.

I breathed slowly and tried to exhale my weight in problems.

+-999

I stared into the mirror of the room that was provided to me by the people that had saved me. I had them turn my eyes back on, without the HUD. I wasn't okay. I don't think I would be for a while.

The first thing I wanted to know, though, was what my eyes looked like now.

They were made of steel, I think. It looked like I had an iris in each eye, but in reality it was just a series of small shutters. I watched as they adjusted, just like a real pupil, allowing in more or less light as I moved. My pupil wasn't black, like a natural one. It was a close thing, unless you looked close. Leaning in, I could see a very faint, green glow. The eyes were set in a metal face plate that took up my eye sockets and covered my cheek bones. There were two, actually, as they didn't cross the bridge of my nose.

I leaned back. I turned back to my room. It wasn't much. A bed, a desk, a computer (like none I'd seen before), a chair and a private bathroom. I was, for the most part, on house arrest. It was nothing I'd done so far. They just didn't know me. They had no assurances that I wasn't a sleeper agent for Talon, or even the U.S. Military. As far as I knew, it was entirely possible that I had some kind of secret trigger phrase that, if I even read it, I would be turned into a rampant killer, all Manchurian Candidate style.

As they were going to be out for a few hours, at the very least, it made sense. And I wasn't completely alone, really. Winston, the gorilla, had apparently been a genetic experiment, giving him a way above average brain. He created, in the boredom of solitude since the disbanding of Overwatch, an AI named Athena.

She was keeping a close eye on me, along with many other things. She had complete control of the building. Soldier Seventy Six assured me that, should I try anything too adventurous, she'd put me down and out until they got back with absolutely no hesitation, then proceeded to go into no explanation, whatsoever, about how that was possible. Smart.

I could already tell that she had control of the doors though.

I sat down at the desk, and pressed the power button on the TV. Two metal bars pulled back into a screen that was a little over twenty five inches across and began playing a news broadcast, showing clips of a local football game. I poked a button on the touch screen cycling through the channels. I stopped on the current incarnation of Cartoon Network.

I sighed, looking at the artwork. In some ways, it had improved vastly. In others, it had fallen a little flat. Just my opinion. I almost laughed as I wondered what it would sound like, if someone heard me talking about it. I was a hundred and three years old, officially. A hundred three year and complaining about the cartoons of this day and age. I couldn't be acting like any more of an old man if I started looking for a homestead in Florida.

I flipped through a few more channels, trying to find some way of distracting myself, until I got bored of it and switched the feed over to the internet and started looking up comics and Manga online.

It was seven hours later when Athena announced the return of Overwatch. I flipped through the news channels. I got to the latest incarnation of CNN when I found exactly what I was looking for.

It was a few clips of a major battle. It made it look like Overwatch was attacking a random sight, causing terror and chaos in the crowds that were watching. There wasn't a hint of who they'd been fighting. It looked, just from this, that I had actually been kidnapped by a band of terrorists that were having a laugh as they killed dozens of people for the fun of it.

If I was stupid enough to believe the obviously edited footage, though, that would be a real shame. Seriously. There wasn't a single shot of agents shooting into the crowds. There would be a clip of them shooting, then it would switch over to people dying, but you never saw a single frame of the agents really shooting anyone. Suspect. Supremely suspect.

I heard the hiss of my door opening. Turning to look, it was Doctor Ziegler again.

"Again," I said to her, "I'm sorry about my reaction, earlier."

"It is alright," she assured me, "However, I have come because Winston would like to question you. Are you feeling well enough for an interrogation?"

I nodded, taking a deep breath and running a hand over my bald head. I hated that. Apparently, a man having a ponytail was no acceptable in the military, even for unwilling test subjects, so they shaved me bald. It wasn't the worst violation of my person, but it was still something I hated.

I followed the doctor out of the room, down the hallway to a smaller room. It was… not traditional, as far as interrogation rooms go.

For one, my interrogator was a gorilla. I knew that he was smart. Smarter than most humans, and some robots, even, but it was going to take some getting used to.

Second, he had food laid out. Not donuts, or snackfoods, but real edibles. Steak, asparagus, a salad with croutons, and a glass of juice.

"You haven't eaten anything since you regained consciousness," the ape said in that deep voice of his, "I figured you might like a classical meal."

I nodded, "Yes, thank you," I took the bowl with the salad first, but before I dug in, I looked at him, "Athena told me that you and Doctor Ziegler were the ones who actually finished my eyes. Thank you."

"It was no problem," Winston grinned, showing his sharp canines, "Trust me, I have worked on things a lot more complicated than a pair of cybernetic eyes."

"Nevertheless, thank you," I said, being sure to swallow my food wholly before speaking. I moved onto the steak and asparagus next, sipping the juice.

"You're welcome," he said, then his expression became serious, "What happened when you were awoken in the Catskills? We know that Widowmaker and Reaper were there, what did they say to you?"

"I don't know, really," I said, "I remember what they said, but I doubt it will help. When my pod opened, the woman asked 'This one?' and the male said no. When she apparently decided to kill me, he said, 'No, leave him. He will slow down those fools,' then they left. A half second later, one of you ran by me and then I passed out after you asked if I was okay."

Winston nodded, "Well, we can assume that they took some of your… erm, I don't want to say 'fellow experiments', but…"

"It fits," I shrugged, frowning slightly at that, "What did they do to me?"

Winston, whom had turned away from me with a thoughtful furrowing of his brow, turned back with a half smirk.

"Would you like to find out?"

000

Chapter End.

I apologize for the lack of segment dividers in the previous chapter. seems to disapprove of my usual method and automatically delete them as a matter of course.

Please Enjoy.


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